A Knight's Temptation (Knight's Series Book 3) Read online

  He drew more of the rope between his fingers. She was no titled lady, worthy of delicate handling. Still, he’d rather not force her to his demands.

  But he would.

  Her men would soon be searching for her outside, and he intended to be gone from this forest by then.

  “Lady L.” He gestured to her free wrist, while keeping an iron grip on the other.

  Her gaze narrowed, and then she glanced at the trees behind him, no doubt searching for a way of escape. Uncertainty glimmered in her eyes, and a peculiar tension squeezed his innards. An inconvenient sense of chivalry.

  From his youngest days, he’d aspired to live by the knight’s code of honor, to respect those of noble birth, to fight for his king and lord, and to champion those less fortunate or in peril. Binding a woman’s hands and whisking her off into the night, against her will, seemed a contradiction of those morals.

  At least some of them. His duty to de Lanceau, however, took priority over her needs. If her testimony could save Moydenshire from the baron and Veronique’s evil, then he must take her to Branton Keep. As quickly as possible.

  “I will ask but one more time,” he said quietly.

  Lady L’s focus snapped back to him. Her eyes looked huge against her ashen skin, her face taut with resolve. Her unraveling braid, rippling down the front of her cloak, was a snarled mess. No longer was she the poised temptress, but a wild woman ruled by instinct.

  Her body tensed. She clearly prepared to bolt.

  “Do as I ask. I will not hurt you.”

  A brittle laugh broke from her. “You want to tie my hands.”

  “Only so that you do not injure me. Or yourself.”

  Her wrist tendons tightened in his grasp, and he felt a shudder jar through her, as if she feared for her life. Did she think he was lying to her? That he intended to restrain her before hurting her?

  Aye, he’d given her ample reason to distrust him. But why would she believe he meant her grave harm?

  She began to fight anew. Leaves rustled as she kicked at his shins while wrenching her arm. “I will not let you tie me. I know what you intend to do.”

  God’s teeth! She was going to damage her shoulder with her struggles.

  “Calm yourself.” He turned the rope in his fingers, waiting for the right moment to snatch her other hand. The faster he tied her, the better.

  “Tie me to a tree, shoot me dead, take the pendant, and gallop away. ’Tis what you plan.” Her voice turned shrill. “I will not let you!”

  He might have laughed at her ridiculous assertion, except at that moment, she glanced at Rom. Her mouth flattened. A warning buzz in Aldwin’s mind reminded him of his crossbow tied there, even as her gaze lit with determination.

  She lunged toward the destrier.

  Hauling her back, spinning her toward him, he grabbed her other wrist.

  “Nay!” she shrieked.

  The terror in her cry struck him deep, but he ignored his inner voice that told him to treat her more kindly. She spat, kicked, and fought like a cornered cat. Holding her firm, he looped the rope around and between her wrists and made a knot. He cinched the bonds tight.

  His hands fell away. Dismay crumpled Lady L’s features as she stared down at her tied wrists. She tried to twist her hands, but he’d made sure she couldn’t.

  “Not . . . again,” she whispered.

  Not again? What did she mean? Had someone tied her hands before? Mayhap one of her less reputable clients? He shouldn’t care, but the blend of horror and anger on her face chilled him. “Lady L?”

  Blinking hard, she stumbled backward, her steps as awkward as a drunkard’s. Any moment, she’d trip on a branch and fall on her bottom.

  Matching her strides, he caught her shoulders. The wool of her cloak grazed his palms. “Listen to me. I am not going to hurt you.”

  “Liar!”

  He shook her, thwarting her attempts to swat him with her bound hands. “I am not going to tie you to a tree. I do not intend to shoot you.”

  Her gaze locked with his. “Why not?”

  Because you are incredibly beautiful, and, God help me, I desire you. “Because you have important information.”

  “W-what information?”

  He held her stare before glancing down at the faint bump beneath her cloak where the ruby lay. “My lord will be very interested to know how you got hold of that pendant, which belongs to him.”

  A soft oath parted her lips. She glanced at the horse again. “You mean—”

  “I am taking you to Geoffrey de Lanceau.”

  She shook her head, her eyes enormous now.

  Grabbing her tied hands, he drew her toward Rom.

  Dragging her feet, twisting her body, she said, “I cannot go with you.”

  “You already are.”

  “Take the pendant. Keep the reward money.” Her voice wobbled. “I do not want it anymore.”

  “You will wear the pendant for safekeeping.” Aldwin’s tone darkened. “Do not try to take it off. I will be watching you.”

  “Please. Just let me go.”

  Aldwin stopped beside Rom and refused to acknowledge her desperate gaze. Her body trembled in his grasp. How clever of her to try to manipulate his emotions with those impassioned words, which had faded into a breathless little moan.

  He scowled and began to untether Rom. Three years ago, he’d been less careful and had allowed his loyalties and emotions to be manipulated. By distorting the truth, Baron Sedgewick had convinced Aldwin that de Lanceau had raped Lady Elizabeth while she was held hostage at Branton Keep—before the two were married, and during the time when de Lanceau sought vengeance for his father’s death and his blood right to be lord of Moydenshire. So loathsome was the thought of Lady Elizabeth being defiled, Aldwin had sworn to kill de Lanceau.

  To avenge her tainted honor, Aldwin had shot de Lanceau in the chest with a crossbow bolt. Later, Aldwin had learned his lordship was innocent of Baron Sedgewick’s accusations; the baron had wanted de Lanceau dead so he could wed Lady Elizabeth himself, and he and Veronique could fulfill their murderous ambitions to rule Moydenshire.

  Knowing he’d been a naïve puppet haunted Aldwin to this day. Never again would his loyalties be manipulated.

  “Do not ignore me,” Lady L cried.

  “You are coming with me.” The reins slipped free from the tree branch. “’Tis not a matter for negotiation.”

  She scratched at him with her bound hands. “Others depend upon me.”

  He faced her then, steeling himself against the watery fire of her gaze. “As others, including my lord, depend on me.” Aldwin gestured to the saddle. “Up.”

  Fury flashed in her eyes.

  Men’s voices carried from the tavern’s yard. “Milady! Milady, where are you?”

  Her head swiveled. Hope brightened her features before she sucked in a breath to scream.

  Grabbing her around the waist, Aldwin threw her onto his horse’s back. She landed flat on her belly on the saddle. She gasped and floundered, trying to scramble upright. Rom sidestepped, flailing his head.

  “Steady, Rom,” Aldwin muttered. Dodging Lady L’s flailing feet, he looped the reins over the front of the saddle, shoved his boot into the stirrup, and swung up behind her.

  Her hair lashing him, she righted herself. “Tw—”

  He clamped a hand over her mouth, trapping her cry.

  “Mmmfff!” she screeched, tossing her head from side to side.

  “Silence,” he growled.

  “Mmmfff!” Her breath gusted against his fingers. Without doubt, her reply meant “Roast in hellfire.”

  Her companions’ calls were growing louder. Aldwin pinned her head back against his shoulder and drew his knife. Her eyes flared, but, ignoring her racing breathing, he reached around her, found the hem of her gown, sliced off a strip, and sheathed his dagger.

  “Mmm!” she choked.

  “Sorry.” Before she guessed his intentions, he lifted his hand, rammed the c
loth into her mouth, and knotted the ends behind her head.

  She jerked away from him, her hands flying up to the gag. Reaching around her once more, he snatched up the reins and spurred Rom through the trees, toward the road.

  Lady L slammed back against Aldwin, hard enough to knock the wind from his lungs. He reeled backward, wincing from where her head had smacked into his chin.

  “Mmmfff!” she screeched, clawing at the gag.

  “Quiet”—he reached for his crossbow—“or I will kill your men.”

  She stilled, her shoulders rising and falling with her frantic breaths.

  “Even from a moving horse, and yards away, I am an excellent shot.”

  “Milady!” Sir Reginald’s cry echoed, fainter this time. “Milady!”

  Aware of the shivers jarring through her, Aldwin clamped his rein-holding arm around her waist. He urged Rom through a gap in the trees.

  When the brush thinned, giving way to the moonlit dirt road, he spurred the destrier to a canter.

  ***

  Her back as rigid as a wooden plank, Leona stared ahead into the darkness, the thud-thud-thud of Rom’s hoofbeats pounding in her ears. The gag pinched the corners of her mouth and tasted vile. But as hard as she’d tried, she couldn’t shift it. When she’d turned her head and raised her bound fingers to the knot, Aldwin had shoved her hands away. “Try that again,” he’d snarled against her hair, “and I will render you unconscious.”

  His hot breath close to her ear had elicited a flurry of tremors within her, and she’d jerked forward, all too aware of the tension radiating from Aldwin’s muscled body behind her. Blinking against the night breeze, she’d decided to cooperate—until she could make her escape.

  Sitting still, though, was its own kind of torment. Rom’s powerful strides caused her bottom to bump against Aldwin’s spread thighs. The heat of his body permeated the thickness of her cloak, offering to warm her against the night’s chill. Clinging to Rom’s mane, she tilted her body forward and pressed against Aldwin’s confining arm at her waist. A small gesture of defiance, but she wouldn’t have him believe that she liked the intimate brush of their bodies.

  The road, hardly visible and streaked with silver-gray, flew beneath Rom’s hooves. Moonlight swept the horse’s neck and highlighted the muscles rippling beneath his coat. Rom seemed sure-footed even in the darkness. As Aldwin, no doubt, knew.

  Rom’s hooves rang on stones buried in the dirt, and she swallowed down unease. How far did Aldwin intend to travel tonight? Riding in the dark was not only dangerous for horse and rider, but made them easy prey for night thieves and cutthroats.

  She’d demand to know his plans, if she could talk.

  She sighed through her nostrils, hating Aldwin more with each passing moment. Hating being as helpless as a dull-witted damsel. Hating that her careful strategy had all gone wrong, and that because of her, Twig and Sir Reginald were now on their own at the tavern and Pryerston Keep was falling further into the grip of the baron and Veronique.

  Father, I am sorry that I failed you.

  Leona blinked hard, fighting her misery. She was not going to shed tears before Aldwin. After enduring the news of her brother’s death on crusade, her mother’s accident a few months ago, and her father’s decline into drunken despair, she’d learned how to hide her despondency. And, by God, she would.

  Aldwin shifted behind her, causing his broad thighs to nudge against her. A peculiar ache dragged through her, a sensation she’d not felt before. Somehow, it seemed to make her even more aware of his bold, masculine presence behind her. He was so impossibly . . . warm.

  Scowling, she leaned farther forward.

  Aldwin chuckled.

  She held her head higher. Discomfort shot through her neck muscles, and she winced, glad he couldn’t see.

  “Lady L, you are going to strain your back.” He tried to draw in his arm at her waist, to pull her against him, but she held firm.

  “You cannot be comfortable sitting that way.”

  “Mmm. Mmm.”

  “Really?” A laugh rumbled in his chest, and she welcomed a surge of rage. She’d answered as best she could with the gag. How dare he mock her?

  The reins shifted in Aldwin’s hands, and then Rom’s strides slowed to a trot, then a walk.

  Aldwin’s fingers brushed the back of her head.

  “Mmm—”

  “Hold still, and I will untie the knot.”

  She obeyed, waiting for that wondrous moment when she’d get the taste of wet wool from her mouth and inhale fresh air.

  The cloth fell away. She drew a breath and rubbed her mouth.

  “Try to scream for help,” he warned, “and I will gag you again. Understand?”

  She nodded.

  “Are you comfortable now?”

  “Perfectly.” If she said “nay,” would he untie her hands? Let her go? Not likely.

  Another laugh, this one tinged with disbelief. “Are you afraid of our bodies touching?”

  She snorted. “Afraid?”

  “I vow you are.” He paused, long enough for her to sense his keen appraisal of her. “I find such modesty curious, especially for a . . . lady of your profession.”

  Leona bit the inside of her mouth. He was enjoying taunting her. Rage and frustration boiled up inside her. Yet she mustn’t let her emotions overrule her common sense. A rational mind and sheer cunning were the only ways to escape a man like Aldwin.

  “I do not want our bodies to touch,” she said over her shoulder, “because I despise you.”

  Their gazes met in the darkness. He shrugged and then grinned, his teeth a white slash. “Very well.”

  Facing the road again, she saw trees now surrounded both sides. If she guessed his route correctly, he was taking her into an old forest rumored to be haunted by spirits of the dead. More than one peasant had seen Roman soldiers marching through the trees on the way to an ancient battle.

  “A-are we riding through the woods?” she asked.

  “’Tis the fastest route to Branton Keep.”

  A shudder crawled down her spine. “You cannot mean to travel through the forest at night.”

  A low chuckle brushed across her hair. “Lady L, your concern is most touching.”

  “I do not care what happens to you,” she said, “but I would hate to fall prey to ruffians, or to see such a fine horse injured because of your recklessness.”

  Aldwin’s breath expelled on an oath. Her words must have wounded him, for he fell silent.

  The forest’s earthy scent carried on the breeze as they headed farther into the trees. Moonlight shivered down through the branches overhead and grazed the bushes growing close to the road, rendering the darkness even more eerie.

  She half-expected a ghostly apparition to leap out from the undergrowth, poised to attack.

  “Not much farther,” Aldwin said.

  “W-we are stopping?”

  “Aye. We will make camp by the river and stay there until dawn.”

  Along with the undead Romans.

  Leona’s gaze traveled over the silent trees and she fought a fresh surge of anxiety. Whatever the locals said about these woods, she must use this stop to her advantage. She had to convince him to let her go. If that failed, she must find a way to escape.

  His arm at her waist moved again, a lazy, purposeful shift upward that brought it immodestly close to her bosom. She might have commented upon such barbarity, but at that moment, Aldwin hauled her back against him, with such ease, she realized he could have done so, whenever he wished, during their journey.

  “Stopping does not mean you will have a chance to escape,” he said against her cheek. “If that is what you intend, you will find these woods very dangerous indeed.”

  Chapter Six

  Aldwin studied the forest ahead, so silent, they might be riding in a tomb. Lady L shivered in his hold, and, with a silent groan, he resisted the urge to tighten his arm in a reassuring squeeze. While his conscience told him to be c
hivalrous and offer her comfort, he mustn’t. Stopping in the woods for the night was a risk. She must perceive him as a threat; otherwise, she’d try to get away. With all of the fallen trees, half-buried Roman ruins, and unstable ground in this area, she’d more likely kill herself than escape.

  Studying the road ahead, he looked for the marker that would guide him onto the deer path toward the river. If only Lady L’s hair didn’t smell so deliciously sweet. If only her body didn’t fit so neatly against his. If only the feel of her in his arms didn’t make his body buzz with awareness.

  What he felt for Lady L was . . . intriguing. He knew how to pleasure women, and how to entice them to satisfy him, but few had left a lasting impression on him. Only one woman had rendered him so besotted, he would have plunged a sword through his own heart had she asked—and they hadn’t so much as kissed. To this day, he knew no woman quite like her: Lady Elizabeth.

  Geoffrey de Lanceau’s wife.

  The mother of his children.

  Years ago, when Aldwin had been a squire in her father Lord Arthur Brackendale’s household, she’d entranced him with her love of his tales of gallant knights. Before she was abducted by de Lanceau and fell in love with him, Aldwin had hoped to offer for her hand in marriage.

  Still, he couldn’t hold back a stab of jealousy whenever he envisioned her stunning beauty. Intelligent, loving, and loyal, she championed all the ideal qualities of a noblewoman. All he desired in a lady wife.

  But she loved de Lanceau. With a passionate sincerity that ate at Aldwin’s soul every time he saw them exchange a glance or a kiss, or stroll hand in hand to their private solar.

  He’d never let his feelings be known, though. As penance for shooting de Lanceau years ago, Aldwin had sworn lifelong allegiance to him, and would never dishonor that vow by betraying his lord in any way—especially by admitting his desire for Lady Elizabeth.

  Someday, mayhap, Aldwin would find another lady to equal her. But that woman wasn’t Lady L, no matter how much she fascinated him.